Loving the beach – my August Spotlight column

As I write this, my family is packed snugly in our car, and we are heading home, driving over the bridge that separates Cape Cod from the rest of Massachusetts. All are quiet and tired. The sun and the ocean have worn us out.

Every year, right around March, I start to feel it. I long to see the ocean. I just need to see it once, each year. I need to stand on the beach of Cape Cod bay at low tide and look out over the expanse of beach, smell the ocean air and feel the sand between my toes. I love that feeling.

So just to satisfy my need to see the ocean, we packed it up and headed out to the Cape. This year, we planned on camping out for three nights, spending two glorious days on the beach. I planned it all out, considering which beaches we would hit, what we’d eat for dinner and even what book I’d read once there.

I planned for us to spend the first day on the bay. As very young people, my children spent many happy hours at the bay. They built elaborate sand castles and filled every space with hermit crabs. Bucket in hand, we walk out as far as we can go, what feels like miles, until we find the edge of the ocean. They love to hear the story of Elliot, just over a year old, big hat strapped around his chin, had something in his mouth. I used a finger to try to scoop it out, but he wouldn’t budge. Finally, he spit out a terrified hermit crab.

After the exploring and the sandcastles were done, it was time to do what I most love to do on the beach: read. The book I brought was perfect, I thought: Geraldine Brooks’s new novel, Caleb’s Crossing. It the story of a young Puritan girl living on Martha’s Vineyard in the 1600s. She befriends a Wampanoag boy who becomes the first Native American to graduate from Harvard College. I couldn’t wait to dig into this rich historical story.

Flopping down on my towel, I dug in my bag for the book. Funny, I didn’t feel it. I pulled out Elliot’s goggles, Lucy’s magazine and Zoe’s bag of chips. Paul’s New York Post was there. It seemed I remembered something for everyone. Except I had forgotten my book. I was so sad. Paul offered to get it, to walk the 2 mile distance back to the campsite. No, I thanked him. I could survive. For awhile I watched the clouds. Then I swam in the warm water with my kids. I thought about my book but tried not to pout. Elliot walked down the beach with me, stopping every foot or so to pick up a rock. The afternoon was lovely. Just without a book.

That night, we cooked up a big piece of fresh cod in our cast iron skillet. It was simply prepared with a bit of lemon and a shake of salt. I warmed tortillas over the fire to wrap the fish in, and we chopped tomatoes to put on top. I declared it the best meal I’ve ever had and everyone smiled. Yeah, I say that a lot.

After dinner I thought about crawling into the tent with my book and flashlight. Instead I sat with my family, idly talking by the fire. I’m so glad I did. We played word games and told stories. Elliot did an imitation of our cat acting like our dog that made me snort with laughter.

The next morning, Zoe and I made coffee and pancakes topped with fresh peaches. My kids happily ate that and what they had begged for: Strawberry Pop-Tarts. Then, we packed it up headed to the ocean side of the Cape.
We arrived, set up our umbrella, laid out towels and I tried to cover all exposed skin with sunscreen. Impatiently, they let me. Coated with 50, they raced to the ocean, boogie boards under arms. I settled in my chair. My book was waiting.

You can probably guess how it turned out. In the bag was all the stuff I’d packed for everyone else. And no book. It was on the other side of the Cape, still tucked in next to my pillow and sleeping bag. Right where I left it. I took it better that day, sighing and pulling myself up from the sand. There would be no 17th century story of people who lived so close to where I sat. Instead there were popsicles, horseshoe crabs and a current to ride. Elliot watched for sharks while we played, endlessly, in the sand and waves. He kept a keen eye but didn’t spot a shark, not even one.
When it was time to go, I didn’t want to. I was reminded of how it felt to be a little girl, one who didn’t want to leave the water on the last day of vacation. I knew I’d have to say goodbye and wouldn’t see the ocean again for a year. A year always seems so long.

Next morning we were in the car, Paul taking us back to Albany. I was satisfied, calm and riding my post-ocean-holiday-high. Though the miles stretched between me and the ocean waves, I could hear them in my head, over and over.

I miss the ocean while I’m away from it. Next year, we’ll go back. It will be there waiting as it always is; the waves, the crabs and all the soft, warm sand. We’ll bring our cooler and our toys and boogie boards. The book? Maybe I’ll bring my book. The truth is, I really didn’t miss it, anyway.

Light a grill to medium heat. Rinse fillets and pat dry with a paper towel. Season generously with salt and pepper. Place on the foil and bring the edges up so any liquid doesn’t run off. Cover the fish with the tomato, a drizzle of olive oil, the lemon juice and the chives. Place another piece of foil over top and seal all around. Place the aluminum foil packet directly on the grill and cook for 7 minutes. Peek into the fish, using a fork to test for doneness. When the fish flakes in the center, it is done. Serve hot, scooping the juices over each serving. Excellent with sweet summer corn and a green salad.